


Room 4

by SapphoIsBurning



Category: Original Work
Genre: Art, F/F, Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27549829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphoIsBurning/pseuds/SapphoIsBurning
Summary: An unusual heist goes down at Christmas.
Relationships: Art Thief/Artist for whom she steals back her art
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18
Collections: Femslash Exchange 2020





	Room 4

“That’s who won the auction?” Melissa shouted, disbelieving, into her cracked iPhone.

“Yes, ‘Room 4’ brought record prices,” her representative at the auction house noted. “You’re really becoming a blue chip artist, Miss Jimenez.”

“But...that’s the guy who jacked up the price of insulin for all those people, and bought the Wu Tang record no one’s ever going to get to hear. If he buys my work, no one will ever be able to see it or smell it or feel the spirit of it. It will die.”

“You can’t control who wins an auction, my dear.” The voice on the other end of the phone was starting to sound impatient.

“Thank you for the call,” Melissa said and hung up. It only made her feel more lonely.

***

Jeanne-Marie was at her desk, typing furiously and trying to look busy while listening intently at the telephone call going on next to her.

Melissa Jimenez, an up and coming multimedia artist, had put a one of a kind site-specific installation up for public auction and it had been purchased by someone vile.

But it was...an unusual piece of art. Hard to sell in the first place. Could it even be stolen?

Well. No self-respecting art thief didn’t appreciate the challenge. She tabbed over to the window where she was running her VPN, tunneling in to look at a hacked surveillance camera on her new mark’s estate. “The rich have no taste,” she thought to herself. She was also taken by the image of Melissa: mysterious, wearing one pearl earring, her dark hair shaved close to the scalp. An enigma just like the art.

Jeanne Marie hadn’t quite infiltrated the auction house for this purpose, but Vermeer could wait. 

***

“I’m surprised the auction house sent someone to help transport this,” Melissa said. “I just wanted to see it one last time…what was your name?”

“Jeanne-Marie,” she said, extending a gloved hand. “Enchantee.” She inhaled the scent of Melissa’s perfume--citrusy, yet seductive.

Melissa shivered. “I can’t believe it’s December already,” she said.

“I detest the holidays,” Jeanne-Marie said with a smirk, picking up a light box and carrying it to a van.

“Oh no,” Melissa said, “They’re my favorite time of year. At least normally.”

“Americans,” Jeanne-Marie said. She adjusted her scarf. “You don’t get any vacation through the whole year so you need Christmas to make up for it.”

“I’m an artist, it’s not like I’m getting paid vacations anyway,” Melissa said. “I need Christmas to get me out of my studio. Give me something to look forward to. This is pretty solitary work.”

“What do you want for Christmas, then?” Jeanne-Marie asked, waggling her eyebrows.

Melissa sighed. “My art back, really. I don’t care about the money. Well. That’s a lie, I need the money, but...it’s the principle!”

“He is a fool,” Jeanne-Marie said. “Who would pay $500,000 for an empty room anyway, though? Can you tell me?”

“It’s the fourth in my Room series,” Melissa said. “I lived in this room for a year, from Christmas to Christmas, without leaving it. The walls and floor were disassembled and the air was pumped out with a vacuum. He’s buying my blood sweat and tears, and also some of my used furniture. So. Not totally empty, then?”

“You want it back so badly?”

“I want someone to appreciate it,” Melissa said. “What if he’s just...jerking off in my bed?”

“Would Tracy Emin approve?” Jeanne-Marie asked, and laughed.

“Oh god, who even knows,” Melissa said. “Maybe he’ll listen to his Wu-Tang album while he’s at it.”

“So he’s buying every thought you had in that room, every idea, every drip of paint.”

“That’s it exactly. My genius loci, the spirit of the place. That’s what I was trying to imbue the room with.”

Jeanne-Marie steepled her fingers. “Hard to steal a spirit,” she said.

“What?” Melissa asked.

“Nothing,” Jeanne-Marie said. “How big did you say the bed was?”

***

This task turned out to require an entirely different set of skills than Jeanne-Marie was used to using. She zipped up her painting coveralls and grabbed her tools.

She knocked on the service entrance of the house. “A-1 House Painting here, just ready to take on the upper floor?”

A tired looking housekeeper let her in and showed her the upper floors.

She worked quickly. It was imperative to complete the task without notice from anyone around. Fortunately the homeowner was in Ibiza and didn’t keep many employees here: mostly just a fleet of Roombas, somehow.

The last step was to disassemble the bed. It was hard to get the whole thing apart, distracted by the lingering smell of Melissa’s perfume on the mattress. Was it California Reverie? Jeanne-Marie wondered. She thought of the delicate upturn of Melissa’s nose and the depth of her range as an artist. Captivated, she had explored as much of her catalog as she could while planning this maneuver.

The mattress was lowered out the window and into the open top of a truck. The bed was as well. The room was painted, the carpet was ripped up, and all that was left was to leave a note. She spray painted her message in red, dripping letters: ROOM 4 HAS BEEN STOLEN. LONG LIVE ROOM 4.

She picked the lock on the safe and grabbed the Wu-Tang album on the way out, because, why not at this point?

***

It turned up a cold, dark, uneventful December 24th. Melissa was drinking a peppermint latte and scrolling through Twitter when she saw the news. “I’m getting word that there’s been an unusual break-in in Brentwood,” one journalist tweeted.

She frowned but went back to scrolling. But then the news broke.

“Empty Room Stolen By Art Thief,” one headline read. 

Her phone lit up with texts from her dealer, the gallery, the auction house. 

There was a knock on her door.

A woman in black stood there. “I have something for you,” she said.

“Jeanne-Marie?” Melissa asked. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”

“I hope you are not disappointed,” Jeanne-Marie lilted. 

“Is this about the break-in?” Melissa asked.

“Well. With me, it’s always about the break-in, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“May I come in?”

Melissa hesitated. Jeanne-Marie peered past her into the empty house.

“You said you loved Christmas, but you’re alone. Why?”

“It’s Christmas Eve. And you’re alone too.”

“I won’t be if you let me in. Let’s go upstairs, I have something to show you.” Jeanne-Marie’s eyes twinkled, and she smiled warmly, showing the gap between her front teeth. Her blonde hair peeked out from a black knit cap and her breath steamed in the winter air.

“Now I have to know,” Melissa said.

***

They went upstairs, and Jeanne Marie suppressed a laugh. “Here it is,” she said, opening the door to a small bedroom.

“This is...well this looks like it was when I was making Room 4,” Melissa said.

“I hope you forgive my intrusion,” Jeanne-Marie said. “I could not let that bastard have even the ghost of your blood, sweat, and tears.”

“So you snuck into my house to assemble furniture?” Melissa asked.

“Is that so much stranger than living in a room for one year to imbue it with a spirit?” Jeanne-Marie asked.

“It’s quite the performance,” Melissa mused. “Maybe it could be a part of the art. The sale and then the return.”

“Let’s call it what it is. You must know I’m a thief.”

“Like. As a job?”

Jeanne-Marie nodded. “It’s not easy to steal an idea. Please tell me you’re impressed.”

“So. You took the furniture. You repainted the walls and the floor in his house.”

“And I declared that the art had been stolen. And now I declare it has been returned. Please tell me you think it’s clever, I am dying over here.”

“If you can make concept art, I suppose by definition an art thief has to be able to steal it.” Melissa walked into the room and sat down on the bed. “I didn’t even think I was going to have company today.”

Jeanne-Marie felt bold. She shut the door behind her and sat down, very close to Melissa, breathing deeply. “It’s a shame to be alone any time of year, but especially now.”

Melissa looked at the mysterious woman and felt warm, her hands and face tingling. “You could stay if you wanted.”

“I think I would like that,” Jeanne Marie said thickly. “And also, may I ask: how do you feel about Wu-Tang?”


End file.
